Page 1 of Rope Me In

Chapter 1

Kade

Grief. It’s a funnyand horrible thing. Like your lungs, it expands and contracts. The more life you breathe into it, the larger it gets. But the longer you starve it, the more painful it becomes. Like when you walk into frigid winter air after a hard workout and the very sustenance you breathe becomes ice inside your chest. I rub my sternum like I can feel it right now.

“Kade?”

I’m broken from my thoughts by my cardiologist, Dr. Ellis. She looks at where I’m rubbing my chest and then into my eyes, her face etched with confusion.

“Sorry. You were saying?”

“Are you feeling okay?” she asks.

I look at my hand and force it down to my side. The pain I was feeling has nothing to do with my actual heart, but I’m not going to tell her that. “Yeah, sorry. Just an itch.”

For a moment, I think she’s going to press me further, but then she relaxes. “I was saying everything looks good.”

I exhale a sigh of relief and give her a grateful nod. “I’m cleared to start work again?”

Dr. Ellis smiles warmly. “Don’t go crazy. Keep stress at a minimum, but everything looks normal. I’m going to keep you on beta blockers, but it’s just a precaution. I want to keep that heart muscle strong, especially considering the type of manual labor you do.”

“Alright, then,” I say, not happy about having to take medication. It makes me feel lethargic sometimes. And I read that it could be why I keep having strange dreams and nightmares. But it is what it is. I’m not going to complain about it if it keeps me alive. However, Iamconcerned about the cost, something I’ll have to figure out later.

“And what are you planning to do for stress relief?” she asks.

I stare at my doctor, the one I’ve come to trust over the last three months. A hard thing to do when I grew up listening to a dad who told me to walk it off when I got hurt. And that all doctors were a bunch of money-hungry quacks.

“You want me to do goat yoga or some fancy shit you city people like to do?” I say, a teasing tone to my voice.

She chuckles. “If you like goats and yoga, then yes. I would say it could be a great stress reliever. Especially the yoga part.”

I crack a half smile, unable to stop myself from being flirty. It’s always been my way of dealing with people: to handle any tense situations and keep things nice and breezy.

“There are other great ways to relieve stress, you know.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. Her back stiffens at what I inadvertently implied, and she stands from her rolling chair.Way to fucking go, Kade. You creeped out your doctor. Your very married doctor.

My eyes go to the giant diamond on her finger then to the floor. Sometimes I can’t help what comes out of my mouth. It’s second nature at this point. I’ve always been the town flirt and, eventually, the town playboy. I slept with a lot of women. It’s not something I’m ashamed of; it’s just a fact.

And while I haven’t fucked anyone since I’ve been on the mend—and I’ve gotten better at watching what I say since I stopped drinking—it’s been getting harder and harder recently to keep myself from reverting back to my old ways.

Dr. Ellis clears her throat, and I bring my eyes to meet hers. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate.”

She must hear the regret in my voice because her features soften, and she takes a step toward me. “You’ve been through a lot in the last few months, Kade. I’m not a psychologist, but I would consider seeing one if you haven’t. After a major cardiac event, depression isn’t uncommon. It also wasn’t just your heart that was injured. You broke your arm and received a concussion from your fall. That’s a lot for a body to take. If you’d like, I can have my physician’s assistant get you some referrals.”

I roll my shoulders back and grimace. The last thing I want to do is see a headshrinker. They’d probably lock me up in a padded cell for all the thoughts I’ve got swirling around in my head. Not to mention that my friends wouldn’t let me hear the end of it. I’m only twenty-two, for god’s sake. I refuse to believe I need to talk to someone. I’ve always dealt with my shit, even when I was a kid. And I’ll keep dealing with it like I always have.

“I’ll think about it,” I tell her, trying to make it sound convincing.

“Okay, great. Then we’re all done here. I’ll have you come back in a year for a checkup.”

“A year?”

“Yes. You can see your primary in between or use the online portal if you have questions. But your heart is healthy.”

“Okay, thanks,” I say, thinking about how I don’t have a primary doctor. Or at least I haven’t in a very long time.

She stands, cracking open the door to leave. “And Kade?”

“Yep?”

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